Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Mozambique and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Absolute Body Control to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fuzztones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
LL Cool J,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jandek,
Mo-Dettes,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scion,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marvin Gaye,
The Victims,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Das Ding,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Sound,
Gil Scott Heron,
Darondo,
Radio Birdman,
The Count Five,
8 Eyed Spy,
Harry Pussy,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobby Byrd,
Excepter,
Severed Heads,
Echospace,
Iggy Pop,
Judy Mowatt,
Rosa Yemen,
The Grass Roots,
Maurizio,
Altered Images,
Eden Ahbez,
Blancmange,
Dennis Brown,
One Last Wish,
Amon Düül,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Deadbeat,
Morten Harket,
Jacob Miller,
Josef K,
Wings,
Glambeats Corp.,
Robert Hood,
Gabor Szabo,
New Order,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
a-ha,
Pere Ubu,
Connie Case,
Main Source,
Ronan,
The Electric Prunes,
Sex Pistols,
ABC,
Organ,
Visage,
The Mojo Men,
the Normal,
Michelle Simonal,
Thompson Twins,
Supertramp,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.